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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30016956">I Don't Want Antibody But You</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LozisLaw/pseuds/LozisLaw'>LozisLaw</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>South Park</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Burns in Slow, Dancing over the graves of your hope, I love you but I want them to suffer, Jazz Hands- to lighten the mood, Kenny is a just a child in divorce, M/M, Post-Canon, Vaccination Special, heartbreak hotel, sobs</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 22:06:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>16,405</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30016956</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LozisLaw/pseuds/LozisLaw</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The world changes, then changes again when the four boys divorce from each other's lives.</p><p>Thinking optimistically, at least Kyle no longer had to hang out with Cartman. But he would sacrifice a million years doomed with him just to get one more day with Stan.</p><p>(But he doesn’t want me anymore. He made that very clear)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kyle Broflovski/Stan Marsh</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>72</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written shortly after the Vaccination Special,</p><p>You should watch it before reading, but you don't have to- I'm not your mum</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Kyle wakes up early on Saturday; has done every second weekend of the month for a long time. It’s still dark in the room, and his eyes crust open when he stretches and yawns. He usually sleeps in, but it’s custody weekend, and he would never leave Kenny hanging.</p><p>He puts his jacket over his pyjama top, an old faded thing now but still big enough for his frame that refuses to upgrade into broader shoulders. He’s been told he should really replace it- that it’s an eyesore, but Kyle needs something to stay the same, and he likes how worn and snug it is. It’s been through all the shit that he has, and it’s never failed him. It never disappeared.</p><p>Kyle walks to Kenny’s house alone that morning, shivering through the cold bite in the air and hurrying his pace. It’s not like Kenny’s house is any warmer, but Kyle enjoys spending time there anyway- if only for the joy of still being invited to people’s houses.</p><p>Kyle only hangs out with Kenny and Butters these days. After the split, and everything went down in flames, Kyle was too late to realise everyone already had a group, and it was far too late to be welcomed into any other fold. He did have a fold, and he only realised how much it had saved his ass in the past, because he was left with the rejects, back to the very bottom of the food chain. Scott and Kevin were nice, but Kyle really couldn’t stand them sometimes. Even Butters is too shrill and optimistic for his taste, but what other option does he have now?</p><p>He refuses to be alone, no matter how poor the substitutes are. But not Kenny- Kenny is his saving grace. The only reason he bothers to make an appearance at all anymore. But even then, Kyle only gets Kenny two days every week, as per the agreement.</p><p>The snow gets muddier as he crosses the rail tracks, and he spots dead rats and cigarette butts sticking up out of the snow. The storm wasn’t heavy enough to mask them, but no amount of nature could cover the harsh truth of this dump. The house as he approaches emits a cold neglected suffering, or maybe that’s only because Kyle knows what’s inside already.</p><p>He was horrified the first time Kenny told him to just climb through his broken bedroom window, but the reality of facing the rest of the house and his family first continues to be more terrifying, so he hauls himself up using a spare tire sitting beside it. He’s still too short to leap up without it, despite being a junior at Park County High.</p><p>Kenny is still asleep, like always as he spidermans himself in, flicking snow everywhere on the stained ratty carpet. Kyle walks over to the head of the bed where Kenny snores, letting himself smile at the sight for a quick second, before grabbing the analogue alarm clock on the bedside table and twisting the old timer back to seconds away.</p><p>The alarm clock blares a horribly shrill frantic bell, knocking Kenny out of sleep and leaping up in fighting position, eyes wide and panicked. His eyes adjust to Kyle smiling down at him in satisfaction with the clock in his hand, And Kenny scowls and groans, flopping back down into his pillow.</p><p>‘’Morning Butthead,’’ Kyle grins.</p><p>‘’Mhm morning darling, you realise god intends us to sleep at the asscrack of dawn- not fuck around with innocent youth?’’ Kenny mumbles. Kyle snorts.</p><p>‘’Innocent my ass- you were trying to watch a porno yesterday on my phone <em>in class</em>.’’</p><p>‘’Didn’t anyone tell you algebra is the best time to watch porn?’’ Kenny asks sleepily.</p><p>‘’No. No they did not,’’ Kyle deadpans, trying not to grin. It’s good to see Kenny again, the past week has been hard with only Butters for company.</p><p>Kyle rustles Kenny to dress so they can hang out in the park- having already spent more time in that house than Kyle prefers. It’s nice to have Kenny to himself again, walking up into town together in the mild powder and talking about the week since they last spoke. Kyle had custody yesterday, but it was a school day, and it doesn’t feel like a real day out until the weekend.</p><p>There’s nobody in the town square park, and that’s precisely why Kyle likes to wake up early Saturday and do this, despite Kenny’s whiny complaints. Kenny knows it too, which is why Kyle never takes his half-assed complaints seriously.</p><p>There is literally nothing better nowadays than stealing the gazebo in the park as the sun rises, watching the earth wake up. It’s something that never changes, and Kyle loves it- needs something constant so much these days.</p><p>‘’You gonna join any extra-curricular stuff this year?’’ Kenny asks as they sit against the sunrise, warming their backs comfortably.</p><p>‘’Yeah, I’ll do the usual debate club, science club and stuff. I’m thinking about joining the basketball team this year too,’’ Kyle says, staring out into the freshly white park. It’s refreshing the day after snow. He should be used to it, a lifetime spent in this town, but he’s learnt to appreciate what he used to take for granted. He likes to think if anyone saw it, they’d be impressed by how much he’s grown up. Not that anybody looks anymore.</p><p>‘’You dork,’’ Kenny smirks. ‘’But totally- basketball sounds right up your alley. Just don’t injure yourself dude, you’re soft.’’</p><p>‘’Fuck you- I’m trying okay,’’ Kyle frowns. ‘’And speak for yourself- you’re close to killing yourself <em>daily</em>.’’</p><p>Kenny grins like there’s a joke he’s not getting, which usually pisses him off- but instead he breathes and calms down. His anger was the cause of everything. He sees a therapist twice a week now, even though he hates it.</p><p>‘’Are you going to join anything?’’ Kyle asks, changing the subject.</p><p>‘’Shit dude- is there weed smokers anonymous on the sign ups?’’ Kenny snickers, and Kyle punches him in the shoulder. ‘’Okay, no then. I’m too busy with other stuff anyway.’’</p><p>Kyle knows he’s talking about Stan and Cartman, but Kenny stopped directly bringing them up at all back in sophomore year, when he managed to convince Kyle to share a stolen bottle of vodka with him. Kyle had been low, and managed to get drunk off the paltry amount he drank, and blurted out that he couldn’t stand hearing about them anymore- amongst other stuff. Kyle still flushes in humiliation at the memory, but Kenny took it seriously and hasn’t said their names since.</p><p>Kyle still doesn’t know if they’ve asked Kenny to stop too. He wouldn’t want to know.</p><p>They spend the rest of the morning at the gazebo, until the first trickling seniors and pensioners arrive for their morning duck-feeding rituals, effectively ruining the peace with their deathly souls. They usually leave to do something better at that point anyway.</p><p>Back when the arrangement started in fourth grade, it was during the time they couldn’t go out into town, so Kyle had to improvise and make his room the funnest place possible for custody weekends. It was hard to think of anything- his room was his sanctuary for homework and sleep. He had no <em>fun</em> there- at least he hadn’t for a while. Lockdown had been a struggling battle that he still isn’t sure he conquered. No- of course he didn’t, look what happened.</p><p>He doesn’t regret it- he knew it had been coming. But it was a swift shocking reality that he is still experiencing withdrawals to this day.</p><p>But those weekends were his life for so long, and even now they remain the best three days of the month. Kenny was always happier than Kyle could’ve hoped for, but the years passed, they’ve grown up, sombre just became a part of the equation. <em>Holy fuck</em> they grew up all right. Everyone did, but it happened so slow that when Kyle finally looked at and glanced at his old class, it hit like a freight train- they were near unrecognisable.</p><p>Now, with the pandemic long over but branded into everyone’s minds for good, Kyle can take Kenny to actual fun places to pass the time. They go to the movies today, watching Avengers 7, the new generation of heroes, for the third time. There’s always a new easter egg they missed. Kyle shouts Kenny’s popcorn, now skilled at deflecting the awkward conversation of who pays what, given Kenny’s money is always going towards Karen. Sometimes Kyle brings Karen along to the movies and shouts her too- always guilty about their situation.</p><p>Kyle wonders when Kenny has any time to himself anymore. Their agreement makes his afternoons and weekends always full, and he’s also somehow working part time at two different food chains (though they’re competitors and don’t know he’s betraying both). He feels guilty about this for a second- that his petty needs forces Kenny to lose his own free time. But that thought becomes furious when he wonders why Stan and Cartman haven’t thought of this and given themselves less custody time- or at least reached out to negotiate a new schedule to accommodate it.</p><p>Kyle hasn’t spoken directly to either of them since sixth grade. He barely even sees them at school, neither of them take advanced classes. Or maybe they purposely avoid his area when he’s around. But in reality, it wouldn’t be surprising if they’ve just forgotten Kyle exists at all.</p><p>Either way, fuck them both. They’ve stopped existing to Kyle for years now, and he’s doing fucking fine without them, obviously.</p><p>After the movie, Kyle enacts his usual schedule of buying Kenny an affordable but appreciated meal at McDonald’s (the only thing Kyle can afford with his allowance), and bringing him back to Kyle’s house to spend the night. He usually always sleeps over at Kyle’s house on Saturday nights, which is an unspoken sacred given that Kyle clutches close to him even after all this time. He has nothing interesting happening anymore to compare it to.</p><p>It’s almost like the dismemberment of their group was the source of everything wacky and insane that happened to them as kids. If so: good. Kyle doesn’t need that stress on him anymore. He was barely holding himself together anyway.</p><p>He’s scrolling through shit on his phone while Kenny watches some inane Netflix show he likes that Kyle pulled up on his laptop. They’re sitting on Kyle’s bed; Kenny remaining at the foot and lying on his stomach. Kyle stays at the head, and tries to fight thinking about how different it used to be.</p><p>Back then- when? Too long ago; it may as well be never. He remembers it clear as day, which is distressing. But any memory involving Stan is distressing now. They would sit up, leaning against the bedpost while they watched illegal movies- before the miracles of streaming existed or carried any weight in society. They would elbow each other when something funny happened, Kyle would glance at Stan constantly to make sure he was enjoying himself, both perfectly calm and nervously eager to please him enough to stay. As if it was any question Stan would ever leave his side.</p><p>And now, in reality. He has, and Kyle is living with that fact, perfectly okay with it. He’s allowed to be nostalgic, and even though he never talks about it with Kenny, Kenny knows him too well to not guess. Kyle hasn’t heard anyone utters Stan’s name in his presence for so long- like they know too. Which of course they do. Kyle appreciates it- but it doesn’t stop him from sometimes muttering it to himself at night, hearing the simple word out loud that still somehow manages to wound him and leave him wrenched of his vital organs.</p><p>And there’s nobody left to get him more. The only person fit for the job- is no longer willing to fit it. And maybe he doesn’t fit it anymore anyway. Likely not, Kyle has no idea who Stan is nowadays. Certainly not someone who’s going to find some spoilt kid who took him for granted a new kidney.</p><p>Kyle thinks about this as he drifts off- how much he took for granted, everything. What might have been if he’d taken time to appreciate these things. He got so used to Stan saving him that he came to expect it: he stopped saying thank you. Maybe that’s all it was.</p><p>Bad thought: this just makes Kyle angrier. If a simple thank you was all Stan needed- why didn’t he just ask for it? Kyle would have said a million thank yous if he knew. Stan wouldn’t have left like he didn’t even care if that was just it. There was something more, Kyle knows it. And he basically knows what too, but it hurts the most to think about it.</p><p>Kyle knows he’s obsessed, and he thinks about this often. He’s good at hiding it- one has to be when one is around psychic Kenny, and nosy Butters. Nobody else has to know anyway- what can they do?</p><p>Kyle forces himself awake to find Kenny still watching on the laptop intently, blissfully distracted. That’s what all of this is for: Kenny’s happiness. Kyle doesn’t care actively about the rest, despite thinking about it constantly. He loves Kenny like a goddamn son, he’d do anything to make him think everything is okay, just the same as those good old days. Even if the whole world knows otherwise.</p><p>‘’Hey,’’ Kyle says, blinking rapidly to keep himself up.</p><p>‘’Hmm?’’ Kenny asks, still watching his show.</p><p>‘’Do you like coming here?’’ It’s a bit of a sappy question, and they usually completely avoid speaking like that, but Kyle suddenly needs assurance that this is the right move. Sometimes it doesn’t feel like it.</p><p>‘’Sure dude,’’ Kenny shrugs. ‘’It’s not listening to my parents break bottles and get fucked up and fight. Why?’’</p><p>‘’Just wondering,’’ Kyle makes himself sound unaffected, his guilt for Kenny’s situation hitting him harder. ‘’Do they treat you well?’’</p><p>Kyle makes it sound like he’s talking his Kenny’s parents, but he and Kenny both know he’s really talking about Stan and Cartman. It’s the first time Kyle has spoken vaguely about them first. Kenny perks up in surprise, finally glancing away from the screen.</p><p>‘’Yeah, they do,’’ Kenny’s eyes are sad. ‘’Do you ever see them?’’</p><p>Kyle shakes his head, can’t make himself talk with his throat suddenly betraying him and clogging up.</p><p>‘’Nobody ever explained to me what happened,’’ Kenny mutters quietly through the harsh silence that follows. ‘’I kind of figured it out.’’</p><p>‘’Are you okay?’’ Kyle asks, horrified that Kenny knew all this time and kept up with the parenting act for their sakes. Kenny shrugs violently, gluing his eyes back to the screen. His expression is hard and steely.</p><p>Kyle feels like shit for a few seconds, then forces a technique from therapy to get over it, determined to not feel like even this could potentially crumble around him too. It’s all he has left.</p><p>Kyle forces himself to never cave in to asking another question like that again that weekend, and it succeeds. He waves Kenny goodbye on Sunday afternoon, their weekend essentially over, the week repeating itself- even though Kyle has him in two days. It’s not the same as the weekend though.</p><p>Kenny will be handed off to Stan tomorrow. Kyle tries to remember what those two might talk about, though it’s inaccurate and maybe even grotesque to think they still act the same as they did when they were ten years old. Maybe Kenny will talk about what happened this weekend- maybe even Kyle himself. Maybe Stan will ask.</p><p>It’s a mere fantasy, and not even a nice one- it’s anxiety inducing. In reality, they will likely act like the weekend didn’t even happen, because to Stan, Kyle is- for all intents and purposes, dead.</p><p>It’s ironic that he was once ready to sacrifice lives to be able to go back to school, and now he’d be thrilled to go back to that online platform. Kyle remembers it as a boring and isolated way to learn, unhappy about the fact that it became his only socialisation with the guys. He wasn’t even texting Stan anymore outside of zoom class, which should have been the first sign that something was off. Now, with no friends, fucking <em>Butters</em> was not enough of an exception, it would in fact be easier to pretend he’s not even more isolated now than he was during the pandemic.</p><p>Everyone is set in their ‘crews’, and it remains a tedious part of Kyle’s existence. He can’t wait to graduate- sometimes wonders if the only way he can escape this black cloud is to run away to college- just away from this goddamn town. There’s not a single location here that isn’t haunted with memories, and it’s exhausting trying and failing to not get furious and hopelessly upset about it; about the changes he’d have made if he could go back.</p><p>He’s sabotaging himself to continue to think about this, but it’s impossible not to, walking through these horrible hallways at school, nearly completely invisible but also ogled at like a freak museum. Kyle supposes it’s the jacket; everyone knew his jacket and ushanka as a kid, and what a dork alert to see him still wearing it- embarrassingly still fitting it. Fuck them all, Kyle doesn’t care.</p><p>At least he doesn’t wear his ushanka anymore. He’s embarrassed about how he lost it, and just tells everyone it grew too small. Truthfully, he was walking through the woods near Starks pond when he was fourteen- on a furious tangent that was impossible to suppress. He would have started punching someone- anyone, for no reason at all. He made himself take a long walk in nature to calm down, and in the middle of the forest- ran into Stan’s dog Sparky. Kyle figured he’d just pulled out of his leash or something. Sparky used to come to Kyle just as easily as he did Stan, so to see him again after so long was a momentary but effective balm to his anger. He threw sticks for Sparky to chase, and got caught up in his own fun to notice his hat fall off. Sparky must have thought it was a new toy, and picked it up in his mouth before Kyle could retrieve it, running off. He didn’t return, and Kyle was more baffled than angry. He- only when he’s feeling low enough, likes to think Sparky took it back to Stan at some point, to remind him Kyle still exists- okay. He’s here- if you still need him.</p><p>It’s probably just in a ditch, becoming fertiliser in that old bug infested forest, where Sparky dug it into. Because dogs don’t telepathically understand when people need to somehow let their ex-best friends know that they’re okay but also please come back. Kyle no longer believes he needs any of that- he’s still fruitlessly angry. But he’s also resigned, and it’s a good compromise to get him through. And nobody can blame him for that. Not a goddamn person.</p><p>Kyle avoids the dead zones where he knows Cartman spends his time with the girls. It’s his new fraternity, and Kyle can’t say he’s really shocked, though maybe surprised the girls apparently put up with him. He suspects Cartman’s just using some long-term convoluted plot to get into their pants. He has no idea if it’s worked, and he couldn’t give a shit.</p><p>Kyle’s ‘crew’ is maybe the saddest attempt at a crew. He keeps telling Butters to not make himself look so douchey, but lately Butters’ has ignored him even more than usual. He’s begun to wear leather jackets to school like it’s the bees knees; probably thinks he’s some kind of biker. Kyle is ashamed of him but prefers his company to solitude.</p><p>Butters waves him down like an overexcited third grader, squashing any badass attempt he was making with the jacket. ‘’Hi Kyle! How was your weekend?’’ he calls out. Kyle pretends as best he can that he doesn’t know this guy, shamefully sliding over to him at their usual spot: anywhere that isn’t taken.</p><p>‘’Hey dude,’’ Kyle puts his hands in his jacket pocket; he supposes they look just as stupid as each other. Kyle is living in the past, and Butters is so pumped for his future that he’s living in it.</p><p>‘’You had Kenny this weekend didn’t you?’’ Butters asks, fully aware of the schedule. ‘’Did you do anything fun?’’</p><p>‘’Just watched movies and shit,’’ Kyle shrugs, hugging himself.</p><p>‘’How’s Kenny going?’’ Butters asks hopefully.</p><p>‘’Fine, good,’’ Kyle answers, annoyed he can’t come up with anything perkier.</p><p>‘’Well- that’s good! He’s seemed kinda- sad lately,’’ Butters says. Take it Butters noticed that. He obviously has a crush on Kenny, who’s become something of a pinball machine friend, bouncing around every crew like a wacker. Kyle knows he couldn’t stop it if something happened, but he really thinks Kenny could do better than Butters.</p><p>‘’Well, I’m sure it’s nothing,’’ Kyle says, hiding a deep drop in his stomach. He has noticed that, but up until now, thought it was best to not mention it for both their sakes.

</p><p>It’s only two days until next visitation, but it’ll feel like a month. He wonders where Kenny is right now; with Stan certainly. Maybe they’re all sitting with Stan’s new crew, which- as surprising as it sounds, consists mostly of Craig’s gang. It’s humiliating to think they survived better than his own gang did. Kyle thinks they're douchebags, but he’ll hate anyone who now gets to call themselves Stan’s friends. Why not him? Craig and those guys suck, was Kyle really worse than them?</p><p>He uses another breathing exercise to stop thinking about it, fists clenching and unclenching. If Butters notices, he wisely says nothing.</p><p>Kyle spends his time focusing on schoolwork for the next two days, like usual. He enjoys feeling successful in at least one area, since he obviously sucks ass at friendship. He can manipulate his grades, at least, and does so. He signs up for debate club and science club, and puts his name up for basketball tryouts. He doubts he’d get in, puberty did not do him kindly, remaining criminally short and obviously unathletic. He hasn’t exactly been working out lately, but who cares. He’ll do as much extra-curricular as he can to distract from this boredom he can’t escape. He’s done the same thing every year.</p><p>When Wednesday comes around, Kyle meets Kenny at school- whose already found Butters and been chatting him up. He seems to know exactly where to go already each week, which is worrying on its own.</p><p>The next two days spent with him, Kyle is increasingly concerned, because he finally notices this strange melancholy behaviour he somehow couldn’t before. Although Kyle tries hard to brighten up their sad sack attempt of a group for a little while, it doesn’t make Kenny smile nearly as much. He can’t believe he couldn’t notice it before, but now that he has it’s extremely troubling.</p><p>On Thursday afternoon, Kenny presents Kyle with a note just before he leaves to go home. His <em>own</em> home, not Kyle’s house.</p><p>‘’What’s this?’’ Kyle asks, about to open it. They’re standing out at the front of Kyle’s house, shivering in the cold air.</p><p>‘’Read it when I’m gone,’’ Kenny says. ‘’And just- keep an open mind. You can text me your answer.’’</p><p>‘’Um- what? Answer?’’</p><p>‘’Nevermind, just read it. See you later,’’ Kenny says.</p><p>‘’Kenny-‘’ Kyle says helplessly, afraid the note will contain some weird sacrificial ritual, or that Kenny’s sold himself to the devil of something.</p><p>‘’Kyle-‘’ Kenny sighs, closing his eyes. ‘’I don’t know what to tell you. But I can’t tell you in person.’’</p><p>‘’Now I’m really worried.’’</p><p>‘’Don’t be- see ya!’’ Kenny waves him off quickly and jogs in his house’s direction, becoming nothing but an orange dot. Nobody judges Kenny for wearing his old jacket- but the difference between them is he has a real excuse, and Kyle is just being pathetic when he does it.</p><p>Kyle makes himself wait until he’s lying on his back in his bed before he opens the note, hand shaking with unfair nerves. He’s half certain Kenny’s gotten himself into something dangerous, though he can’t imagine what for with his busy schedule.</p><p>He opens the note and scans it.</p><p>
  <em>~I want you to talk to Stan again. I know this is painful- that’s why I can’t say it to your face. I’ve been thinking a lot about it, and I think it would be good for both of you to at least patch up some of the holes making you bleed. Please consider it. I miss you guys~</em>
</p><p>Kyle’s hands are shaking bad by the time he finishes reading it, though he was losing control the moment he saw Stan’s name. He has to put the note down and focus on his breathing.</p><p>He’s proud of himself for not shedding any tears.</p><p>His eyes burn however, when he types his response to Kenny.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Get spoiled now little ones</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Kyle was so done with Stan.</p><p>The idiot couldn’t understand what a fucking dumb name ‘’<em>Gorak</em>’’ was, and he had the audacity to call out his own superior name for Steve. Steve was a cool name, and it suited the guy. He was wearing flannel for fucks sake, he looked like the six-million dollar man, the caveman couldn’t get any more <em>Steve</em> if he tried.</p><p>But no, stupid Stan was a stupid whiny bitch again, and wouldn’t let him have this win. He had to believe he was the one who found him, who had all the rights to his name. Well that was just FINE.</p><p>Kyle didn’t need him anyway, he could just be Cartman’s best friend. The fat piece of shit was wayyy better than stupid retarded Stan anyway! Ugh.</p><p>They’d considered the matter done, no longer friends or talking to each other. The group still hung out, but they couldn’t do anything about that. Kyle avoided looking at him just fine.</p><p>He assumed the matter was closed about who Steve belonged to as well, but apparently not. Kyle wanted to bust him out of that cruel enclosure- worried about his overall happiness. Kyle would go insane if he was stuck in a room with only crappy internet speed and <em>Ace of Bass </em>blaring while a bunch of gross vultures and tourists took photos. So he ventured to rescue the poor guy, and broke into Mephisto’s lab. That part had been easy, literally walking through a door that had forgotten to be locked.</p><p>So to find fucking STAN had beaten him there, and was talking to Steve, was like a bullet to the head. He just wouldn’t get a hint, and couldn’t let this go. Kyle hated him, didn’t want to look at his stupid ugly face anymore. He stalked over to them in the dark, already fuming with insults on his tongue.</p><p>Stan looked more surprised than angry to see him, ‘’What are you doing here?’’</p><p>‘’I’m here to bust out Steve.’’</p><p>‘’What!’’ Stan scowled; ah that’s better. ‘’You can’t- I’m here to bust out Gorak!’’</p><p>‘’His name is <em>Steve</em>,’’ Kyle said angrily, daring him to deny this FACT.</p><p>‘’His name is GORAK!’’ Stan yelled angrily. Like he was in the fucking right!</p><p><em>‘’Steve!’’</em> Kyle corrected, getting into his face to shout this into Stan’s stupid deaf ears.</p><p>‘’Gorak!’’ Stan shouted back, getting even closer. This was like their last argument, slinging shouts back and forth with near frothing mouths. Kyle could just make out Stan’s eyes glittering anger in the dark.</p><p>
  <em>‘’STEVE!’’ </em>
</p><p>‘’What kind of stupid ass name is Steve!’’</p><p>‘’Because he kind of looks like Steve Austin the six million dollar man!’’</p><p>Stan glanced at Steve to check, and scowled again, ‘’No he doesn’t!’’</p><p>‘’Does so!’’</p><p>‘’Uh kids- could you just let me out so I can get back to my family,’’ Steve said between their three second staring contest of doom. Kyle beat Stan to do it, proud of this for only moment before being rabid again. <em>‘’Thanks.’’</em></p><p>‘’You’re a dick!’’ Stan said.</p><p>‘’You’re a dick!’’ Kyle retorted quickly.</p><p>‘’You’re a dick- and I’ve had it with your dicketry- I CHOOSE you!’’ Stan poked Kyle’s chest hard with his finger, and Kyle seethed and pushed him off.</p><p>‘’You wanna fight?’’ Staring at the douchebag in desperate need to be punched in the face, that sounded like a very fucking good idea. ‘’That’s fine with me!’’</p><p>‘’Tomorrow afternoon at the bus stop- four o’clock!’’</p><p>‘’Why not three o’clock!’’ Kyle yelled, wanting to punch him even sooner. Make it right now even, Kyle could see in the dark better than Stan- their night time tag games proved that.</p><p>‘’<em>’Cause dude</em>- Terrance and Phillip is on,’’ Stan said, face dropping for a moment.</p><p>‘’Oh yeah,’’ Kyle remembered, he shook his head. ‘’Fine! I’ll kick your ass tomorrow dick!’’ Kyle gave himself the last word and stomped away back to the entrance he broke into, but he could still hear Stan shouting at him from the distance.</p><p>‘’I’ll kick your ass so bad you’ll wish you never had it to begin with!’’ He screamed, then quieter, uncertainly, ‘’Your ass- I mean. Wait.’’</p><p>Kyle pretended he didn’t hear him and refused to look back. Yeah, teach the asshole a lesson- Kyle didn’t need him. And he could fucking destroy his ass in a fight easily- which he will!</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>***</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>I don’t think you understand what you’re asking. It’s over between us, it has been for a long time. People change, and I’ve accepted this. I don’t have to speak to him to know that Stan has accepted it too. I’m sorry Kenny. I’ll do anything to make you feel better, but I can’t do that. There are no ‘bleeding holes’. Don’t ask me again. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Three dots appear, typing for over a minute.</p><p>They disappear.                                                            </p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>
  <em>Okay</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>***</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The next time Kyle attempts to speak to Kenny is on Monday, their next scheduled visit. He expected to at least receive a text or some kind of filthy meme that morning, but he’s been silent.</p><p>Kyle feels bad about his rude response to the note, but he doesn’t know how much clearer he can be here. He hopes Kenny will at least call him an asshole about it, attempt to throw him into snow and pummel him, anything. But this dark silence is unsettling.</p><p>When he arrives at school, he flags down Butters from behind the school, agitated when Kenny isn’t with him either.</p><p>‘’Have you seen him?’’ Kyle asks Butters, breath steaming out from him in the cold. They had a fresh fall last night, and the world is blanketed in pure white. Butters is wrapped up in two long frilly scarves that embarrass Kyle by association, and fucking blue reflective sunglasses perched up on his head.</p><p>‘’I thought he was with you. This is your agreed time isn’t it?’’ Butters asks in confusion. Kyle nods, gritting his teeth in frustration. He’s- maybe, developed something of a co-dependency with this whole arrangement. As if he can’t live for three days without seeing the idiot.</p><p>‘’He’s been ignoring me for being an asshole,’’ Kyle huffs, shoving his gloved hands into his jacket pockets. The pain of the too short-sleeved jacket makes Kyle almost regret wearing it. Almost.</p><p>‘’Oh, well what did you do?’’ Butters asks.</p><p>‘’Nothing! He’s just got this crazy idea to ‘bring the gang back together’ or something.’’</p><p>Butters eyes light up at the idea, and Kyle groans loudly.</p><p>‘’Oh- but that would be swell wouldn’t it! I haven’t talked to those guys for ages!’’ Butters sounds whimsical when he talks about it, like it wasn’t a big fucking deal how and why it happened.</p><p>Oh sure, putting those mismatched blocks together will fix everything. It didn’t affect Butters much back then when the fight started, and it continues to be just a little detail to him. Nothing an afternoon of snowball fights can’t fix.</p><p>‘’Well- it’s not happening. I haven’t even seen Stan’s face forever. And who fucking knows where Cartman is,’’ Kyle mutters, glaring into the snow. They’ll go inside soon, but Kyle waits a few more moments just in case Kenny arrives late.</p><p>‘’Oh- I saw Stan just the other day!’’ Butters beams.</p><p>‘’You <em>did?</em>’’</p><p>‘’Yeah! He’s gotten awful tall, I had to look up!’’</p><p>Of course he fucking has. God loved flipping Kyle off, after all. ‘’Yeah, well. Good for him.’’</p><p>‘’Yeah!’’ Butters misses the sarcasm, of course. ‘’Aw- I would just be so happy if you fellas figured this out.’’</p><p>‘’That’s not happening,’’ Kyle says, hoping his sternness slaps the discussion closed for this topic. With Butters, every conversation is like gritting through rainbow flavoured chalk scraping against a blackboard. ‘’Anyway,’’ Kyle waves him and his preposterous notions off.  ‘’Come help me look for Kenny.’’</p><p>They search the courtyard first, and trek around the various smoking entrances he sometimes loiters around during breaks. Butters fills the peaceful silence with his insufferable chirpiness, naming every fucking leaf sticking out of the snow he finds pretty. Kyle searches and laments in his head that this is- <em>depressingly</em>, what he has for friends.</p><p>When they decide he’s not outside, they resume their search inside the school. It’s a very welcome change, warm heat flooding the air as soon as they open the doors. After a few minutes, he’s no longer shivering and huddled like a babushka doll.</p><p>The hallways are packed with similarly bundled up students, animated in chatter as they swim past and search for conspicuous orange. Kyle keeps his head high, pretending he doesn’t notice typical stares. When he feels particularly toxic, he likes to blame standing beside Butters; the bully magnet. But he knows it’s him too. The only difference between them is if anyone laid a hand on Kyle, he would snap their neck in two seconds. He likes to think. He hasn’t been able to test the theory yet.</p><p>Awhile longer of drifting aimlessly, Kyle has to think logically about where he would find the emotionally murky son of a bitch.</p><p>Outside is out. The cafeteria belongs to the girls and <em>Cartman</em> (and it certainly isn’t that bitch’s turn for custody), and they’d already harvested through the hallways like lost ghosts. A sudden idea crosses his mind, and without thinking properly about it, drags Butters by the arm out of the halls.</p><p>He leads them to the gym. He isn’t sure what to find there, exactly, but it’s the only common place he could think to find Kenny without searching classrooms. And <em>realistically</em>, Kenny would never willingly hide in <em>class</em>, he was barely ever in it to begin with. One of Kyle’s constant worries in life, the often realised fear that Kenny might not make it to college- to be successful and earn some semblance of happiness and redemption. But he isn’t that bad of a full blown Jewish mother that he’s directly interfering- <em>yet</em>.</p><p>The gym isn’t empty, some jock assholes are hanging out and making noise on the other side of the basketball courts, but still no Kenny. Kyle doesn’t know what he’ll do when he sees the bastard, but kicking him in the balls for this is an option he’s mulling over. Kenny has never, in all these fucking years, been late for his custody. Not once, he always made sure Kyle knew it if he ditched. It was never so silent- so unknown.</p><p>Kyle sighs in frustration and turns back to the doors. ‘’C’mon, I bet the dickhead ditched.’’</p><p>‘’He wouldn’t!’’ Butters frets. ‘’He always tells me when he ain’t feeling well. Always!’’</p><p>‘’Since when is Kenny texting you?’’</p><p>‘’We’re friends!’’ Butters says indignantly, almost stamping his foot. ‘’Same as you.’’</p><p>Kyle rolls his eyes and beckons Butters back out, making vague plans to head over to Kenny’s and beat the shit out of him. In a loving way, of course.</p><p>He would have beckoned him out, if he wasn’t knocked back by a force the moment he turned around. Kyle stumbles backwards and regains his footing, looking up to three older faces staring down at him.</p><p>‘’You good bro?’’ the face he ran into says. No, they only look older. They’re juniors too. It takes Kyle a second to recognise Clyde, fear surfacing for only a second at the sizeable shock. He hasn’t exactly been in close contact with him recently, so looking at him now, holy shit what happened.</p><p>
  <em>He’s huge?!?</em>
</p><p>‘’Jeez, are you okay Kyle?’’ Butters steps in and holds Kyle’s shoulder like he’ll trip over to his death. Kyle shrugs his hand off as subtly as he can, staring into the guys faces in front of him that are apparently his classmates. Look, he’s not so bad he hasn’t even been watching his class develop- he just hasn’t really cared enough to properly notice. Having it literally smack him in the face leaves him a bit caught for words.</p><p>A stray thought, something Butters mentioned crosses his mind, and he squashes it instantly before it can take shape.</p><p>‘’I’m fine,’’ Kyle says. ‘’Uh- are you?’’</p><p>He’s speaking to Clyde, who looks at him quizzically like he just asked how his balls taste.</p><p>‘’Yeah- but we gotta get to practise,’’ Clyde says, moving forward and stepping around the two shorter boys. Oh right, the jock assholes on the other side of the court. The other two follow him, ignoring Kyle’s existence like usual.</p><p>‘’Let’s fucking leave,’’ Kyle says tensely once they’re gone. He’s not miffed, exactly, but something skin to jealousy. Butters willingly comes.</p><p>‘’Boy, that was something huh?’’ Butter unnecessarily adds once they’re back out in the halls.</p><p>‘’Whatever.’’</p><p>‘’Hey- so you see what I mean now. Stan’s gotten pretty darn tall!’’</p><p>‘’What?’’ Kyle says, not really listening.</p><p>‘’Stan,’’ Butters says, pointing back at the gym. ‘’Standin’ right beside Clyde there.’’</p><p>‘’Wait,’’ something takes longer to process in him, he turns slowly. ‘<em>’What?’’</em></p><p>‘’You didn’t see him?’’ Butters says, confused. ‘’He was the first one I saw! You’d think he’d say something huh, it has been a long time after all.’’</p><p>‘’Butters,’’ Kyle is frozen. He isn’t supposed to be frozen, this is the wrong reaction to this news. ‘’You- you’re saying Stan was standing right there? <em>Stan.</em> Standing- opposite me.’’</p><p>‘’Yeah!’’ Butters is cheerful, and Kyle really has to calm down. Okay, relax, slow your breathing. Deep breaths. Get the fucking redness off your face this instant.</p><p>Failing mission; his cheeks are burning.</p><p>‘’Huh, well he was looking your way. Maybe it’s because you were talking though-‘’ Kyle cuts Butters off mid-sentence and drags him back towards the gym doors. He’s acting before he thinks, thoughts running wild and hands starting to sweat with this sudden unexpected fluster. <em>Fucking stop it already-</em></p><p>He’s sneaking up to the door, and hiding behind it as he peeks out into the gymnasium. The bodies are too far away now to recognise, but he tries anyway. His eyes stop when he gets a flash of black, still hard to see. But he knows that hair anywhere. He does look tall.</p><p>‘’Yep- there he is,’’ Butters is peeking out too. ‘’Boy he looks tiny from here,’’ he chuckles.</p><p>Kyle isn’t looking anymore. His back thuds against the door hard as he whips back around, leaning on it when his legs threaten stopping function. Butters is unsubtly peering out, so Kyle pulls him backwards by the scarf to hide him.</p><p><em>It’s so stupid. </em>He got over this- he took years to get over this. He won’t crumble in agony from the mere sight of the fucker. He can’t-</p><p>Kyle stares blankly as he slumps down until his ass hits the cold floor, too far to care about temperatures.</p><p>‘’Are you okay Kyle?’’ concern drips out of Butters’ tone, and Kyle stares blankly up at him too. No, he wouldn’t understand- nobody would. The only other person who could possibly understand, made it very clear that he doesn’t care. A <em>long</em> time ago.</p><p>‘’He- he didn’t say anything?’’ Kyle knows the answer, just needs someone else to say it so he’ll believe it.</p><p>‘’No- but. But that shouldn’t matter!’’ Butters tries to sound happy. ‘’He looked at you though! So there’s that.’’</p><p>‘’Right.’’ Kyle looks down at himself, gloved hands shaking and not due to the cold. ‘’He saw this fucking undeveloped child body, wearing the same old jacket. I’m sure he was impressed.’’</p><p>‘’I wouldn’t assume,’’ Butters says sternly, then lightens up again. ‘’And you’re not a child! But you could always change your jacket- if you don’t like it?’’</p><p>Kyle has to laugh about how caring and delicate Butters sounds right now, like he’s taking care of that baby bird they found a few weeks back. Like Kyle is some precious little thing needing soft care.</p><p>‘’It doesn’t matter. It’s my jacket, I’ll fucking wear it if I want to. Nobody like <em>him</em> can dictate what I do.’’</p><p>Kyle stares at the ground for a silent moment, thinking. ‘’Not anymore anyway.’’</p><p>He knows he’s saying too much- he doesn’t even voice this stuff to Kenny, who is a much better candidate to hear it than Butters. Butters pats his shoulder and joins him on the floor, crossing his legs like a kid.</p><p>‘’I think you need some help buddy,’’ Butters eventually says through the silence. Kyle scoffs at the notion, though Butters seems serious.</p><p>‘’<em>Help? </em>Okay- what kind of <em>help?</em>’’ he asks sarcastically.</p><p>‘’Do you see someone? Like a therapist?’’</p><p>‘’I see one twice a week dude,’’ Kyle says. ‘’It’s bullshit, they don’t help. And fuck you- you need more help than me!’’</p><p>Butters just stares at him, surprisingly intensely. Kyle has to look away, and scowls at his boots. At least his chest isn’t pounding anymore. There’s a now dull ache, totally normal.</p><p>They’ll have to get up and walk to class soon, as will everyone else. Apart from those jock assholes who get practise instead. He supposes Stan is one of them now. Kyle sniffs; <em>fitting.</em></p><p>Kyle is so in his own mind that he doesn’t notice or care when Butters beams, and not at him. It’s only until a silhouette is blocking the light in front of him, and Kyle looks up.</p><p>It’s Kenny, and he looks fucking terrible; but Kyle is too suddenly irrationally furious, and juts his leg out to kick him in the shin where he stands. ‘’You fucking asshole.’’</p><p>Kenny just stands there looking down at him, and it’s quickly too much to handle the height difference, so he gets his bearings and stands back up, Butters following.</p><p>‘’Shit- you look <em>horrible</em>.’’ Close up; Kenny’s eyes are baggy and faintly purple underneath. His hair is greasy and even messier than usual, and somehow he still manages to carry it off like it was intentional. Kyle has about a million questions- but he just looks so <em>tired</em>.</p><p>‘’What are you doing over here?’’ Kenny asks.</p><p>‘’Looking for you dumbass- where were you?’’ Okay, so he’s not exactly sensitive.</p><p>‘’Just- busy.’’</p><p>‘’Busy? With what! And why didn’t you text me- or anything! It’s like you died and left me in the dark!’’</p><p>Kenny blinks at his near shouting, and flexes his fingers at his sides.</p><p>‘’I didn’t die,’’ Kenny just says gently, no conviction behind his voice. It freaks Kyle the fuck out.</p><p>‘’We were awful worried Ken,’’ Butters adds softly, and Kenny glances over to him for a second.</p><p>‘’You’ve never left me in the dark like this,’’ Kyle’s voice cracks embarrassingly halfway through this sentence. <em>Fucking metaphors</em>. To avoid getting emotional, he masks his voice back into anger, wrapping it around himself like armour.</p><p>‘’I’m sorry,’’ Kenny says, sounding emotionally exhausted. ‘’I couldn’t contact you. My uh- phone broke.’’</p><p>Kyle knows he’s lying, but Kenny is giving him an unspoken message here: <em>please just stop asking</em>. He shouldn’t respect it, he’s furious and he needs something to attack before he loses his mind. Vague memories of his own message last night come to his head. <em>Please don’t ask me again.</em></p><p>Kyle bites his tongue and holds back the confrontation intended for someone else.</p><p>‘’Oh that’s okay Kenny!’’ Butters says, thankfully steering the conversation out of his clenched hands. ‘’We’re just glad you’re okay!’’</p><p>Kyle nods stiffly, and Kenny knows he’s holding back something poisonous, and narrows his eyes at him.</p><p>‘’And we just saw Stan earlier!’’ Butters adds.</p><p>
  <em>Oh god. The complete fucking dumbass idiot-</em>
</p><p>‘’Huh?’’ Kenny drops his jaw. ‘’Stan? You talked to <em>Stan?</em>’’</p><p>He looks to Kyle, eyes wide. Kyle cringes, and feels bad, vaguely thinking about that note again.</p><p>‘’We didn’t <em>talk</em> to him,’’ Kyle says curtly. ‘’He was just there for a second.’’</p><p>‘’But you saw him!?’’</p><p>Butters giggles, ‘’Kyle didn’t even notice he was there until after.’’ <em>Wow, thanks for that.</em></p><p>‘’Dude,’’ Kenny is staring at Kyle again, expecting some input. Kyle shrugs at him. He can be emotionally detached too- see!</p><p>‘’Whatever, he wasn’t even aware I was standing there anyway. Case closed. Neither of us care! So you can drop that- that look on your face.’’</p><p>His look is one of pity, and Kyle hates it, wants to scrub it off along with those sad bags under his eyes. He looks like he’s been avoiding sleep for months. But that’s ridiculous- Kyle woke him up for custody weekend like a week ago. He’d been dozing like a bunny in a burrow.</p><p>‘’Kyle,’’ Kenny says. ‘’You got my note-‘’</p><p>‘’Yeah- and what of it!’’ Shit. Kyle is angry again, letting it lick around him like flames, oops too late. The lid is opened and flowing out. ‘’I gave my answer! Stan gave his answer too- he fucking made his mind up. So what? It’s done, just drop it. Nobody wants to go back in time! I’m <em>glad</em>- for one, that I don’t have to live in that farce of a utopia where everyone secretly hates me! Fuck- I’m glad it’s done! So LEAVE ME ALONE!”</p><p>Butters has blanched back by his outburst, and Kenny just looks defeated. Kyle breathes heavily and just storms away, sick of their pity and condescending mouths.</p><p>They act like they know Kyle better than to believe he’s telling the truth. What fucking truth! He’s been done with this shit for years- and they want to drag him back under to drown. It took so long to be okay. So fucking long.</p><p>Fuck Kenny. Fuck Butters. Fuck custody. Stan and Cartman can keep their prize. They probably don’t get harassed about this like he does. Good fucking on them, he just wants to exist somewhere peaceful where he won’t be reminded of how much that dull ache hurts.</p><p>Kyle is fighting back- <em>not tears</em>. Unshed drops of fury- <em>yeah</em>. He finds the boys bathroom in a fog of rage, and slams himself into one of the stalls, uncaring to check if the place is empty. He locks the door with shaking fingers, not trusting Kenny to pursue him and trap him here with more unspoken accusations.</p><p>Once he sits down and calms his breath for a moment, the bathroom is thick with deathly silence. It’s adverse to calm his rage and it’s bubbling out of his eyes without his permission. His face breaks, and just like that, a mere click, it all crumbles around him- flooding every crevasse until his body jerks with a heavy sob. And just doesn’t stop, flows out and out and he’s clutching his eyes desperately- <em>stop, please stop- I can’t do this- please please just- <strong>stop</strong></em></p><p>Nothing works; he’s crying hard and sinking pathetically to the ground, his back hitting the porcelain as he jerks against it. He curls his knees up to his chest and clings to himself as tears dump down his cheeks and dribble into his mouth and on his jacket. It’s a fucking ugly scene, but he couldn’t care less.</p><p>
  <em>Why did Stan do this to me. How did I get it so wrong?</em>
</p><p>It’s a brief thought that he would never let escape the deepest reach of his mind, except when he’s at his lowest. It’s just too much to deny. He can’t stop them once he starts- but he tries. Tries so hard to push them back- refuses to humour any of it.</p><p><em>Being sad won’t do any good</em>- he’s told himself since fourth grade when he really needed it. He was even proud back then, how well he adjusted at first. Time has been his enemy.</p><p>It’s pathetic of him to even be thinking about this. He should have forgotten Stan existed long ago, just like Stan has. He didn’t even recognise Kyle, obviously. He didn’t say anything.</p><p>
  <em>He doesn’t care. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>So you shouldn’t either.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>STOP the fucking tears. Suck it up- stop stop please stop</em>
</p><p><em>Oh god why did he leave</em>. All those fucking promises, and for what. He didn’t mean any of it. He was just a kid, and he grew up.</p><p>Grew up, and left Kyle behind. It was something out of his deepest nightmares, and it came true. Kyle lets out a furious wet sob, wanting to hit something until his knuckles bleed.</p><p>Stan doesn’t have Kyle’s hat. It was a stupid fantasy. It’s in a ditch, it’s buried by snow and soot, long abandoned. This has to stop, he can’t keep believing it’s still okay.</p><p>Kyle slaps himself in the face so hard that his eyes blur with tears again, but he grits his teeth and digs his fingernails into his palms hard enough to draw blood to stop the next round of weeping like a snivelling child.</p><p>Okay, do what the therapist said, that middle-aged busy-body with an almond milk dependency. Breath deep, let it out, breathe again. It works, and he’s glaring at the stall door to suck those last tears back up.</p><p>In hindsight, it was a hasty half minute cry, but that was all he will ever allow himself. He forces his hands to stop shaking, and unlocks the door. The place has been thankfully empty this whole time, which is so much relief that he considers staying here. The thought is swiftly crushed (he will not indulge himself with pity), and he splashes his face with water to get rid of that horrible flush refusing to leave. His cheek is stinging from the hit he inflicted upon himself, a red hand print decorating his face. He will never tell anyone about this. Not Kenny, not Butters. Not his fucking therapist.</p><p>It’s the kind of split second release he’s been needing, and he’s fine now! He’ll never be that weak again, and he’ll be smarter about staying away from that kind of conversation. Completely fine.</p><p>Even his reflection in the mirror is laughing and calling him a fucking liar, but he curses it and wastes no more time in that disgusting place where darkness dwells.</p><p>By the time Kyle leaves the bathroom and heads to class, it’s well into first period. He has to trace his steps back to the gym where he realises he left his bag. He is extremely vigilant to not look in there again, under any circumstances. He can still hear voices and squeaking noises of shoes running against the high-polished floor. He touches his hot cheek just once, and promptly leaves.</p><p>As hard as he tries to pay attention, he hears nothing from his AP English class. It’s very fortunate that neither Butters or Kenny take advanced, because they would immediately notice his blankness that no one else here cares about. Scott takes advanced, and that’s about all who Kyle actually knows here, though they’re not particularly close. Scott is more Butters friend anyway. Freaking Melvins.</p><p>He wonders if he could get away with hiding alone at lunch, but that idea is murdered when Butters sees him collecting his tray and waves him over obliviously. He’s at a table alone, Kenny sitting opposite him. Kyle can only see his back hunched over.</p><p>He takes a desperately needed breath and heads over, avoiding eye contact from the other tables. He’s on high alert, which is odd, but the sting on his cheek is starting to hurt- and <em>fuck</em> it might bruise. He feels like everyone can tell immediately that he’s still crying about the past.</p><p>Kyle sits beside Kenny so he doesn’t have to look at him, instead having the annoyingly perky Butters invade his sight. It’s a relief.</p><p>‘’Where did you run off to?’’ Butters asks.</p><p>‘’Nowhere,’’ Kyle says curtly, hoping it will put an end to the topic and change it for good. He glances at Kenny, who turns slightly away from him, doesn’t say anything.</p><p>‘’Yeah, so,’’ Kyle eyes Kenny with slight concern, ‘’what did I miss?’’</p><p>‘’Oh nothin’ much,’’ Butters shrugs. ‘’Me and Ken were just discussing the past-‘’</p><p>‘’He doesn’t want to hear about that,’’ Kenny suddenly says sharply, finally looking up. Butters wilts and smiles sheepishly. ‘’He made that clear. Very clear.’’</p><p>‘’Look-‘’ Kyle sighs, trying not to feel hurt by his tone. Kenny still hasn’t looked at him. ‘’Kenny, I didn’t mean to sound like an asshole-‘’</p><p>‘’No- you’re right. I should stop. Thank you for letting me know,’’ Kenny says coldly, which is more of a burn than the sting in his cheek.</p><p>He used to be so good at this. Hiding behind this façade of indifference. All it took was that fucking note, and he’s been pushed and pulled like a magnet against opposite forces.</p><p>‘’Please-‘’ Kyle turns to him fully, tugging his parka. ‘’Talk to me dude, I hate this.’’</p><p>He hates the inflection in his voice more, but it briefly works, and Kenny is glancing at him. Widening his eyes.</p><p>‘’What happened to you?’’ Kenny asks.</p><p>‘’Huh?’’</p><p>‘’You’re like red and- <em>fuck</em> did someone punch you?’’</p><p>Kenny is staring at his cheek slap mark, and he curses himself for being so fucking foolish. It was momentarily effective at the time, but surely he didn’t hit himself <em>that</em> hard.</p><p>‘’Nobody punches me and lives,’’ Kyle tries to joke, rolling his eyes. Kenny isn’t amused, and grabs his face by the chin ‘’Ow- asshole.’’</p><p>‘’What the hell happened then? You’ve got a huge ass bruise!’’ Kenny inspects it, and Kyle leans out of his touch so he doesn’t catch his red eyes and figure out the rest.</p><p>‘’Um, it was an accident,’’ Kyle says, hiding it with his hand. Kenny is staring at him in that suspicious way like he knows that’s total bullshit. At least he’s not acting like Kyle doesn’t exist anymore. That’s a step up.</p><p>‘’Who hit you,’’ Kenny asks again, growing serious again. ‘’Tell me.’’</p><p>‘’Nobody dude!’’ Kyle scoffs and shoves Kenny’s face away, wary of the stare Butters is currently giving him. He ignores it for now.</p><p>‘’That’s fucking bullshit Kyle!’’ Kenny says. ‘’Look, I’m willing to let that other stuff go, but who’s fucking bullying you- and I’ll kill them.’’</p><p>‘’Jesus let it go! I ran into a door okay? Nobody fucking hit me, calm down,’’ Kyle scoffs. ‘’No need to- <em>kill </em>anybody.''</p><p>‘’I believe you buddy!’’ Butters pipes in.</p><p>
  <em>‘’Thanks.’’</em>
</p><p>‘’Well I don’t,’’ Kenny says. He clutches Kyle’s arm surprisingly hard and Kyle flinches. ‘’You would tell me if anyone hurt you right?’’</p><p>‘’Why do you even care dude?’’ Kyle says, actually curious. ‘’Shit happens.’’</p><p>‘’Because you’re my fucking brother and I care about you! Look, I shouldn’t have pushed that shit before. I know- and I won’t talk about the other guys ever again if that’s what you want. I can live with it, I have done all this time haven’t I! But I draw the line at turning a blind eye at fucking bruises on your face. A door couldn’t do that.’’</p><p>‘’Why do you look terrible?’’ Kyle asks instead of responding to that, which has taken the breath out from under him a bit. Kenny opens his mouth, then shuts it.</p><p>‘’Nothing that would interest you.’’</p><p>‘’Does it have something to do with- the other guys?’’ Kyle makes sure to remain vague. Kenny eyes him again, looking deep in thought. Kyle notices that all of their lunches have remained untouched on the table.</p><p>‘’It’s-‘’ Kenny looks for a word. ‘’-A transaction, sorta.’’</p><p>Kyle’s eyes expand lightning quick, a cold drop growing in his stomach. ‘’<em>Kenny</em>. <em>No</em>- you’re not-‘’</p><p>Kyle’s voice loses function before the words can leave his tongue.</p><p>‘’Huh?’’ Butters asks uncertainty. ‘’What’s he doin’?’’</p><p>‘’What?’’ Kenny says, eyes narrowing. ‘’You can’t say you’re that surprised.’’</p><p>‘’No- <em>you can’t.</em> Why? Kenny- there’s so many other ways to make money-‘’ Kyle tries, a reality twisting into nightmare again. He feels vaguely ill in the stomach, the cold drop hardening like lead.</p><p>‘’It’s perfectly fine dude,’’ Kenny continues. ‘’I don’t get hurt or anything, I just get caught late at night.’’</p><p>‘’But you could! Crazy people buy drugs dude! It only takes one unhinged redneck with a gun-‘’</p><p>‘’Wait,’’ Kenny frowns. ‘’You think I’m dealing drugs?’’</p><p>‘’Wha- well yeah!’’ Kyle exclaims, confused. ‘’You’re not?’’</p><p>‘’No!’’ Kenny scoffs. ‘’Well- it occurred to me, but- no. Dude I’m not- it doesn’t matter what I’m doing to get the money.’’</p><p>‘’You’re not stripping?’’</p><p>Kenny laughs, but Kyle is feeling too used and chewed up to join in.</p><p>‘’<em>That</em>, has also occurred to me,’’ Kenny grins at Butters, who giggles like there’s a joke there.</p><p>‘’What are you doing then?’’ Kyle asks. ‘’Nothing illegal right.’’</p><p>‘’Um, technically not,’’ Kenny says slowly, which Kyle does not trust at all. ‘’But it’s fine. Karen’s getting her book money, and I don’t have to work at Burger King.’’</p><p>‘’If I have to tell you if someone is beating me up, you have to tell me if you’re doing anything dangerous,’’ Kyle says. ‘’It’s only fair.’’</p><p>‘’But you haven’t told me,’’ Kenny says, growing serious again. ‘’And I’m not letting it go.’’</p><p>‘’Well I’m not either then,’’ Kyle says stubbornly.</p><p>‘’Boy, the cafeteria is noisy today huh fellas!’’ Butters says over their staring contest. Kenny breaks it first, and smiles at Butters’ queasy look. Kyle certainly won’t give up until he knows, but Kenny is just such a murky bastard, Kyle barely knows what’s going on in his head half the time. And what’s going on in his life half the time, it seems.</p><p>He feels an overwhelming sense of guilt for the rest of the day, and he’s pretty fucked head wise, so he’s not really as alarmed as he should be when Butters calls him over to talk after school.</p><p>‘’Kenny’s waiting for me, it’s custody afternoon,’’ Kyle frets, annoyed that his time is dwindling down minute by minute. He won’t get Kenny for a week after this visit.</p><p>‘’Oh I’ll just be a minute,’’ Butters assures him with a smile, and Kyle’s unease grows at the weird look on his face.</p><p>‘’O<em>-kay</em>, what’s up?’’</p><p>‘’Um,’’ Butters is lost for words for a second. ‘’So, you and Kenny are pretty close huh?’’</p><p>‘’Well- yeah. He’s like my closest friend,’’ Kyle is careful to avoid using best friend. He hates that word now.</p><p>‘’Yeah,’’ Butters frowns at the distance. They’re outside again, breath puffing mist into the cold air. Kyle’s hands are stuffed in his pockets, and Butters is curled into his fruity scarves.</p><p>‘’So um,’’ Butters cheeks go pink as he says this. ‘’Do you- like him?’’</p><p>‘’Huh? Of course I do, I just said-‘’</p><p>‘’No no- like, do you <em>like</em> him,’’ Butters repeats.</p><p>‘’Wha-‘’ Kyle is confused for a second, until the meaning finally hits him like a truck. ‘’Oh- <em>oh</em>.’’</p><p>He’s actually lost for words as he gawks at Butters and his nerve. His jaw drops at him. That stare before makes sense now. ‘’What the fuck dude-‘’</p><p>‘’I shouldn’t have said anything!’’ Butters says quickly in a fluster. ‘’I’m just curious is all.’’</p><p>‘’You think I’m fucking gay?’’</p><p>‘’No! Well- I’m sorry. I didn’t want to assume,’’ Butters looks like he wants to be eaten up into the ground, which is how Kyle’s feeling right now. His face is a full on burst of red.</p><p>‘’The fuck- do other people think that too?’’ He’s mortified, and suddenly those constant glares he gets might not have been entirely jacket related. If this has been the kind of rumour circulated around him: he wants to die.</p><p>‘’Well I wouldn’t know now, would I?’’ Butters says with some bite, getting defensive. ‘’I’m sorry I asked. You two were just gettin’ close in there!’’</p><p>‘’What do you care? Do <em>you</em> like him?’’ Kyle flinging these accusations back is a pure defensive tactic, and it works. Butters face amplifies from pink to bright red.</p><p>‘’He’s my friend!’’ Butters exclaims passionately. ‘’And if I do, that’s neither here nor there because we’re just as close buddies as you!’’</p><p>Kyle is so pleased to see a sour expression finally fill Butters face, that he doesn’t really mind being shouted at. ‘’Okay, fine. You can rest assured, I do <em>not</em> like Kenny.’’</p><p>It’s almost comical how Butters’ face softens in relief, which is all the evidence Kyle needs to support his theory. He actually has two theories: Butters has a fat crush, or Butters hates homosexuality so much that he has to call them out on being affectionate (he’d roll his eyes at the idea he and Kenny are affectionate at all). Given who his parents are, the second one isn’t even that far-fetched.</p><p>‘’Okay, I was just wondering,’’ Butters smiles, Kyle rolls his eyes. His face is still warm, which is embarrassing. Way too much shit has happened today, he would just love to sit back and watch cop-show re-runs with Kenny on his laptop this afternoon to unwind.</p><p>‘’Anyways,’’ Kyle says, hoisting his backpack. ‘’I gotta meet Kenny, see you later.’’</p><p>‘’Yeah! See you tomorrow Kyle!’’ Butters calls out like a bird. He is the embodiment of a bird, Kyle realises. He puffed up like one that was threatened, and <em>fucking hell</em> he <em>chirps.</em></p><p>He thinks that would be a funny thing to tell Kenny, as he heads over to find him and walk home together. His cheekbone is aching now.</p><p>He really has to re-evaluate how hard he can hit.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Okay but I have some shit planned for this one (unnnhh long as fuck) and I'm telling you the payouts are HUUGE. So stick around and we'll give each other what we need.</p><p>Kind readers (equalling 2 people), feed me and comment~</p><p>Flavours: hate or love, I'll take either please</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Man I wrote most of this with a fever, so any insanity you sense is definitely mine. Thanks for choosing my airline :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Kyle likes to take walks through the woods sometimes. The trail from his house to the lining of the forest clearing beside Starks pond takes only a few minutes, and the forest itself is vast and extends past into the beginnings of the Rockies, but it’s a very fair trade for the minor danger of getting lost. Kyle has been navigating these woods since he was a kid- be it hunting Leprechauns or heisting special bunnies that were destined to become Pope.</p><p>He’s in desperate need for recuperation the day after he sees Stan. Or more accurately when Stan was present near his general area and he somehow failed to notice the son of a bitch until Butters pointed it out later, like it was an afterthought.</p><p>The conifer trees are the perfect therapists. They never judge him when he rants out his problems, they don’t even speak up to correct him when he describes himself like a failed abortion like his normal therapist does. It’s a relief to be able to get all the shit off his chest without punching someone for hearing it. He knows very well the numerous secrets forever whispered and etched into the trees- how nobody will ever hear them. Not his therapist, not Kenny. Nobody. And yeah, it’s a relief.</p><p>The snow is still melting from that storm the other day, and in the early dawn of the morning the fading whiteness reflects soft sunlight and illuminates the path through the cracks in the tree lines above. Kyle only notices it from his peripheral vision; he keeps his head down and stares at his boots as they crunch through the end of winter.</p><p>He’s got on his dad’s heavy snowjacket this morning- not trusting his old orange one to protect him from the chill of dawn, which felt a lot colder getting out of his warm bed than it does right now. He would have liked to sleep in, but this is obviously more important. He’s tensing his hands while he thinks and walks, pretty confident that if he doesn’t take this breather he’ll knock Butters out at school. He doesn’t want to- but if he sees another fruity scarf on the guy he’s not sure how much more faux happiness he can take.</p><p>And it’s not Butters fault he’s <em>this </em>unhinged lately, of course. He tries to lie to himself for a hot minute, but it’s useless, he’s not an idiot. His cheekbone is indeed sporting a purple bruise from the slap he over gave himself, and soon will turn an oily green he’s not looking forward to. Kyle looks up at the trees, and their hollow silence is as much a: <em>‘go on Kyle, we’re listening’</em>, as he’s going to get.</p><p>‘’So, I guess I saw Stan yesterday,’’ Kyle begins, aware he’s being ridiculous, but also aware that he’s been talking to trees for three years and he’s past the point of no return.</p><p>A howl in the distance, swishing of leaves. They say: <em>continue.</em></p><p>‘’I didn’t even see him- here this huge guy and his friends bump into me, and I thought the one on the left was Craig looking at his phone. I didn’t even bother checking- he’s just so part of the click you know?’’</p><p>Silence. <em>‘Yes, you’ve mentioned Craig’s group, go on.’</em></p><p>‘’I felt like decking Butters when he mentioned it was actually Stan- and I’d actually stared at the guy for a good few seconds and didn’t die on the spot,’’ Kyle scoffs when he hears it out loud. It still sounds ridiculous and implausible. ‘’I thought for sure the first time I’d see him up close I’d like- feel something at least. But- there was nothing. Was it just because I didn’t recognise him? Or- <em>hah</em>, I’m over the whole thing- <em>finally</em>?’’</p><p>Kyle really hopes it’s the latter, really <em>really</em> hopes. The trees silence feels judgemental, like they’re giving him a knowing look that no, you’re not fucking over it. You’re talking to trees instead of your friends. All because you don’t want to admit to them that you’re still obsessed.</p><p>‘’I’m not <em>obsessed</em>,’’ Kyle mocks, trying to make this clear to the dauntingly tall pines in front of him. ‘’I don’t talk to Kenny or Butters or fucking Scott about it because they don’t understand. Kenny doesn’t deserve to have this stress on him- he’s so busy and I only get him once a week. Butters is way too naïve to even know- he thinks we should all go out for ice cream to ‘be friends again’. And Scott- what the fuck. He’s a dick who doesn’t know his arm from his asshole.’’</p><p>The silence prompts him to continue, and Kyle groans and keeps walking, the crunching beneath him soothing his clenched teeth. ‘’I know Kenny wants everyone to be friends again. I’ve known from the start how he was unhappy about this stupid ‘custody’ thing. But I don’t want to see those guys ever again. Yesterday was an accident, and I was weak. I’ve been holding myself together this whole time- I’ve never cracked once.’’</p><p>The trees hiss through the leaves: <em>you fucking liar</em>.</p><p>‘’That one time doesn’t count,’’ Kyle bites back. ‘’I lost my fucking hat- you can’t blame me for getting upset.’’</p><p>
  <em>What about the hysterical sobbing the other day? You slapped yourself so hard you got a bruise? Do normal teenagers do that?</em>
</p><p>‘’That’s irrelevant,’’ Kyle snaps, spinning around. ‘’It was just getting it all out of my system.’’</p><p>
  <em>Why are you here then? Why do you so desperately need to bring something up that happened in fourth grade. Those guys probably don’t even remember it happened. No, they definitely don’t.</em>
</p><p>‘’And I don’t miss them,’’ Kyle says loudly, trying to convince the trees, who are usually cool, but apparently felt like taking bitchy pills this morning. ‘’They were assholes to me, and I hadn’t felt like I was friends with them even when we hung out. I’m glad it’s over!’’</p><p>The silence doesn’t say anything this time. Kyle feels like that’s enough of a statement in itself. He just hears his words rattle back in his head, mirroring the ones he shouted at Kenny.</p><p>Kyle keeps walking, stewing over these words, how untrue they had felt on his tongue. No, he doesn’t want to be friends with them anymore. He wants to go back in time, he wants to be back when they felt like glue when they went on adventures together, like not even Rob Reiner, Barbara Streisand, the American government and fucking space could tear them apart.</p><p>He thinks of that time they hired the space geeks to build them a time-machine to go back to third-grade. They’d been afraid of growing up, of their new teacher- and as kids with no limits in what they could achieve, it was the obvious and perfect solution.</p><p>At least back then, they’d all wanted to go back together, still the closest they could get without being Siamese quadruplets. Kyle is certain now he’s the only one who’d like to try that again, to just go back and forget this mess of growing up and live in that time forever. The others are actually happy with their life without Kyle- they must be. Neither of them have come back.</p><p>Where did it all go wrong? The pandemic seems like a good answer, but such a convenient answer must be wrong, because if they were still such a strong bro-ship, couldn’t they have survived the brutal months of lockdown like fucking Craig’s gang did? No, it was something else.</p><p>‘’I think it was Stan moving to that farm,’’ Kyle says quietly, guiltily, to the trees. They don’t answer, but he feels bad blaming something that wasn’t Stan’s fault. Young Kyle couldn’t understand it, and it was easy to be mad at Stan for leaving him behind in town for fucking weed. Now Kyle knows it was more complicated than that, but he’s still guilty.</p><p>There’s a new family in Stan’s old house, whose been living there for four years now. A kid- now in freshman year; Johnny and his parents Ivan and Olivia. They’re nice, and his mom invites them to dinner parties sometimes. Kyle tries to smile his way through those nights, listening to Johnny and Ike discuss school and the girls in their grade. Johnny is the kind of all-around ladies’ man, constantly going on dates with the alleged best looking girls his age, and discussing the outcomes like some gross poker game. Kyle feels bad for the girls, though Johnny isn’t really all that bad. It’s just the type, it leaves a bad taste in Kyle’s mouth.</p><p>Ike worships the guy and his successful game, constantly discussing what moves Johnny used will make Ike fish in all the girls. Johnny’s parents are apparently unconcerned- dare he say proud, of their son, and they show an interest in Kyle’s college preparation with a near creepy enthusiasm. Kyle humours them as he talks about it, usually getting butted in by Sheila about the handsome scholarships he’ll rake in from Princeton, Harvard, Yale, you name it.</p><p>Kyle hasn’t been over <em>their</em> house for dinners since sixth grade, and the disaster that left him with a panic attack and running home early. It was something about being back in that overly familiar house- but everything being different. It was too weird, and Kyle being at a weird point in general, didn’t handle it the best.</p><p>But he knows Johnny is occupied in Stan’s old room, and only knows because sometimes he glances out his window and sees what used to be Stan’s window beside it, and finds not Stan’s Broncos poster and Terrance and Phillip bedsheets, but an unfamiliar room with the latest band on the wall. As a kid, he used to glance over without thinking about it, and got so used to seeing Stan there, and sometimes even met his eyes and they would wave. Sometimes Stan would pull out his tongue and make a funny face, and Kyle would return with his own, laughing at the dumbfuckery they found so hilarious.</p><p>Kyle has never fully accepted that Johnny’s family would stay- always considered them squatters or something. Because how could some other family take The Marsh house- <em>Stan’s house</em>, when it always did and forever will belong to the most well-known family in town? (Definitely not best-liked, after the whole shenanigans with the Tegridy farm that has since settled down in Randy’s old age.)</p><p>‘’I know they’ll never move back,’’ Kyle says to the trees he’s been giving the silent treatment as he treads through the forest trail. ‘’I wouldn’t want them to come back anyway.’’ He can only imagine the indescribable pain of suddenly always seeing the one face his chest has been concaving for, for six years. Kyle would have to move- he’d beg his parents to send him to boarding school- anything.</p><p>‘’I feel like such a fucking mess sometimes,’’ Kyle sighs into the frigid air, looking up to see the sky lightening as dawn becomes morning. He’ll have to head back soon, or chance missing the bus.</p><p>
  <em>You make it hard for yourself.</em>
</p><p>‘’Then tell me how to make it easier huh?’’ Kyle huffs at his own mind creating personifications of fucking bark. ‘’You’re just as useless as Dr Downer.’’</p><p>Dr Downer is his non-tree therapist, who Kyle tolerates but has yet to like. She keeps pushing him for information about the past as a kid in creative ways she seems to think he’s too stupid to not fall for, but he’s yet to reveal anything damning. She is his third therapist in two years, and Sheila has been clear that she’s not paying for Kyle to burn another bridge. Kyle has been good so far- has felt no need to physically attack Downer for sticking her nose into stuff too personal like he has the others.</p><p>The trees seem to laugh in his face at this comparison. It’s true, they’re leagues better than her, mostly because it’s all in his head. He doesn’t actually need to say anything out loud, because the voices reacting are just his own. He’d eschew a human psychologist altogether if he could, but he’s broken too many ornaments out of anger over the years for his parents to keep turning a blind eye.</p><p>‘’It would make things so much easier if you just told me what to do,’’ Kyle calls out, and this time, he’s not talking to the trees.</p><p>He’s been criminally lax about keeping up with his faith, it’s only saintly that his mother hasn’t noticed that other than yearly traditions, he’s even stopped attending synagogue. God obviously stopped giving a fuck about listening to him back in fourth grade when the bastard ripped <em>abso-fucking-lutely </em>everything away that mattered.</p><p>And there it is, coming to the conclusion he usually does. His life stopped back there, and he’s living some kind of gross husk of a boy, he doesn’t have enough self-respect to even call himself a man.</p><p>‘’Fucking hope climate change kills you,’’ Kyle spits out when he turns back for home. The trees are silent, but he can imagine they’re flipping him off for being such a failed abortion.</p><p>Kyle laughs when he turns back, tracing the trail and heading home to get ready for school. Dr Downer would have hated him saying that.</p><p>***</p><p>Kyle is still – perhaps <em>overly</em> – alert about Kenny’s suspicious activities that are causing occasional bodily harm. He has no reason to really care, except he has every reason to care and he’ll be damned if he lets the idiotic bastard expose himself to the world of drug dealing. Kyle has seen morbid documentaries about the underground practise, so he knows that those criminals do. He will go fucking <em>Sheila</em> on Kenny if he gets even a whiff of this happening behind his back.</p><p>Despite being busy missing Kenny after custody; being suspicious of his new ‘job’, loathing Butters, and hating himself: the following week is still painfully boring. The usual chemical cocktail of his life, what else is new.</p><p>Kyle is accepted into debate and science club, which he’d been a member since freshman year and the invite comes with no surprise. It’s not a flex on social terms to be elected into the top roles in these groups, but in terms of college applications; that shit is a golden ticket in the extra credit department. And that’s all Kyle cares about now, to escape the dreadful mediocrity that is South Park, Park County High and the cud-chewing students around him he’s unfortunately known since diapers. Counting down the one and a half years until he graduates is a beloved hobby of his.</p><p>Friday lunch period is when basketball tryouts are held, and Kyle attends; an appropriate mix of hopeful and prepared for failure. He tried some minor exercising at night the week before, but he knows that does nothing so late notice and it’s his own fault for not preparing enough. The only thing he figures the coaches are looking for in him would be his smallness somehow making him an agile competitor.</p><p>Kyle used to play on the courts with Kenny every custody weekend before the heavy winter set in, but with the ice constantly covering town, it’s too slippery to play outdoors. He was pretty decent back then. But that was summer, and these people aren’t joking around in team sports. The whole town rallies for Park County’s players, Kyle even remembers their parents treating their football games like the Super Bowl.</p><p>He remembers the familiarity of height envy very quickly when he steps into the tryout line up. It’s a mixed crowd of Juniors, Sophomores, and the odd Senior not already on the team. Most of them are taller than Kyle, which is a stab wound to his pride, and they haven’t even started.</p><p>The pathetic runts including Kyle lined up for judgement, are confronted with the current official basketball team.</p><p>A row of fresh cut, uniform adorned athletes. Their height alone is a slap in the face, and they all look completely unimpressed at the tryout candidates. Kyle has taken ridiculous pride in being a Junior, but right know he feels like a sixth grader looking up in awe of high schoolers. The first person he recognises in the team line-up is Token, who’s fucking daunting to look at. He’s seen him around, takes a few AP classes with him, but goddamn. This is <em>his</em> terrain, and he looks like a captain- maybe is.</p><p>‘’Alright fish, let’s see what you’ve got eh?’’ a Senior calls out, commanding attention to the court where they all stand, apparently the actual captain. ‘’We’re gonna split you up into two groups, and play a few practise rounds to see what we’re working with. Sort the positions out amongst yourselves.’’</p><p>Kyle gets positioned as a centre- which suits him fine, fully aware he’d be useless trying to stop taller shooters with his unevolved fucking legs. When the whistle of their first game blows and Kyle gets into his position, he makes sure to curse his delayed puberty one more time for being too short.</p><p>The game goes how he pretty much expected. He’s quickly exhausted by how much harder he has to run and jump to keep up with the taller guys, unaccustomed to running and bouncing around like a jumping bean. He needs energy drink for that shit, and of course it just hacks into his performance until he’s drained.</p><p>He tries- actually tries hard, but he doesn’t make the cut by the end of the practise game.</p><p>Kyle hides his face from the others by walking away when the successful candidates are announced at the end of the game. He doesn’t need them to know he failed, but isn’t surprised. He has half a mind to call them height discriminators, but he’s not a Karen. He’s <em>not</em> a Karen.</p><p>Kyle is annoyed to find Butters waiting for him after tryouts. He’s sweating, flushed and feels gross now, but just pulls his jacket back on to hide it.</p><p>‘’Hi Kyle!’’ Butters chirps to him, waving like an overexcited kid. Kyle mutters a curse under his breath and walks over to meet him.</p><p>‘’Hey Butters.’’</p><p>‘’How was your tryout? Did you get in?’’</p><p>‘’No, I did not get in,’’ Kyle tersely responds, pulling Butters along and away from the gym, into the halls. He’s nervous and titchy about being in this area now, after what happened yesterday. Butters looks crushed at the news, his face falling. Kyle wants to laugh, but just glares at the ground and walks.</p><p>‘’Aww- buddy I’m sorry. I was sure you’d make it in- I was telling Kenny- <em>boy I just know Kyle will make the team- he’s always been great at basketball!</em>’’</p><p>‘’Well I’m obviously not- just leave it okay,’’ Kyle snaps, shutting him up. It lasts two seconds, as usual.</p><p>‘’Did Kenny tell you about the party? Won’t it be fun!’’</p><p>‘’Huh?’’</p><p>‘’Oh,’’ Butters covers his mouth and giggles. ‘’Woops.’’</p><p>‘’Butters- what the fuck are you talking about?’’</p><p>‘’Nothin.’’</p><p>Kyle feels like punching Butters again now, but he’s just in a pissy mood. He’d love to go home early and shower, hates the feeling of dried sweat on his skin. This is why he’s never been big on sports.</p><p>It’s lunch break- and with the large chunk of it wasted on those stupid tryouts, Kyle is annoyed the rest of the period. He and Butters sit at their usual table in the cafeteria, and he pretends to listen to Butters talk about dumb shit- something that happened on his walk home yesterday. It’s tragically boring and Kyle spends the time nodding listlessly and imagining something else.</p><p>Mostly the possibility of having different friends. If he’d been smarter and acted quicker back in elementary school, he could have slipped into the cracks of an official group in the class. But he’d been frozen in his own shock at the turnout of events, he blinked, and the other guys had already claimed their spots. It was almost like they were prepared for this to happen, and Kyle somehow didn’t get the memo until it was made abundantly clear they were done.</p><p>The only person who’d been willing to take him with open arms was the smiling boy in blue, who’d recently burned a few bridges himself by joining QAnon. Kyle should be grateful for Butters, who accepted him without asking any questions. But then Kyle only has to look at him now from across the table, humming a tune to himself over pudding, and the idea of being genuinely nice is physically sickening. He can be silently grateful.</p><p>It also confirmed what an actual loser he was without Stan and Cartman. It had infuriated him for years, but it was true. It obviously continues to be true now too, and he’s still at the loser table.</p><p>Kyle sits and stews and plays with his food without eating it, stuck so far in his own head that at first he doesn’t notice when someone crashes into their table. When he finally breaks out into reality, that person turns out to be Kenny, who’s grinning manically and only slightly less bruised than yesterday.</p><p>‘’Kyle! I’ve been looking for you,’’ Kenny exclaims.</p><p>‘’What- Kenny?’’ He’s startled, but the sight of Kenny is a nice one. ‘’But- it’s- you’re meant to be with Cartman right now?’’</p><p>‘’Yeah yeah- but I needed to talk to you for a sec,’’ Kenny says, stepping back and brushing himself down from literally bursting into the scene.</p><p>‘’About what?’’</p><p>‘’Okay- so I need you to keep an open mind. One of the senior guys is throwing this huge ass party, totally exclusive- except it’s not! They’ve reached out to a bunch of us juniors saying we can come too-‘’ Kenny must recognise the growing alarmed look on Kyle’s face, because he quickly backtracks. ‘’No no- I know what you’re thinking, but I’ve invited Butters to come, and I want you to come too Kyle. It’ll be really fun, and you haven’t even been to a party yet!’’</p><p>‘’Kenny- really. I can’t-‘’</p><p>‘’Please Kyle,’’ Kenny clasps his hands together. ‘’I know you hate this kind of thing, but I wanna bring you to just one party dude. Please? Before we’re seniors? If it sucks you can totally bail, but give it a try.’’</p><p>‘’Kenny says it’ll be a hoot and a half!’’ Butters adds from across the table, looking starry eyed with glee. Kyle feels cornered, and shirks away when Kenny moves closer. There’s no way in hell he could go to a high school party. The kind he’s dreaded all this time. Because what will be there? None other than the fucking two guys he’s been trying to avoid for so long. There would be nowhere to hide.</p><p>Kenny looks so hopeful that it fucking breaks his heart to need to reject his offer, but there’s no other choice.</p><p>‘’Look,’’ Kyle starts, bracing himself. ‘’I’m sure you and Butters will have a blast. But I’m like- really busy with homework and stuff, and I don’t really belong in places like that. So- um, yeah have fun, but no thanks.’’</p><p>Kenny looks just as crushed as Butters did at the news of not making the team, but Kyle needs himself to be firm here. Don’t bend to their pathetic heartbroken faces, it won’t work. He has no compassion left to spare, he needs that for himself.</p><p>‘’You really don’t wanna go?’’ Kenny says. ‘’But we’ll get to hang out- and we can go somewhere other than the movies you know?’’</p><p>‘’You don’t like spending our time there?’’ Kyle asks, with growing dread. If he’s been taking Kenny only to be bored out of his mind all this time-</p><p>‘’No- dude it’s great!’’ he amends. ‘’But- I just thought you wanted to try something new.’’</p><p>‘’You know why I can’t go,’’ Kyle says giving him a look, fucking pleading him to not make him say it. Kenny just looks dejected, and <em>c’mon</em> stay strong. Don’t give in to the pressure.</p><p>A hand meets his shoulder, and Kyle looks up to see Kenny’s eyes staring him down in wavering rejected sadness.</p><p>‘’I’m not going to force you. I know why you don’t want to. But I just need you to know how much I want you there. I hate how antisocial you are now dude.’’</p><p>‘’Not everyone is like you,’’ Kyle mutters, ignoring the intensity of his stare. He pokes his food instead, heart hammering away under his ribs from this conversation.</p><p>‘’I know <em>you’re</em> not like this. You’re just torturing yourself over dumb shit.’’</p><p>‘’You know you don’t seem fucking entirely over it yourself,’’ Kyle snarls, too coward to meet his eyes. ‘’So get off your high horse.’’</p><p>‘’You’re right,’’ Kenny deadpans. ‘’I’m not over it. But stop pretending you are, and come with me and Butters to this party so we can get wasted and maybe work on forgetting it.’’</p><p>He doesn’t want to even respond to that, feeling too called out to be in this cafeteria. It’s like everyone is staring at him and pointing out the redness in his cheeks, burning up in shame over the truth he hates to ever admit. And here Kenny is spouting it all out loud with no tact whatsoever, like he hardly cares anymore about protecting feelings. What the hell changed?</p><p>‘’If I go, will you finally shut up about the whole thing?’’</p><p>‘’I will hack off my own goddamn leg if you come,’’ Kenny says completely seriously. Kyle blanches back at the force he’s still not accustomed to. It reminds him of them as kids, when Kenny would dress up and turn into a dark mysterious anti-hero in their games. Sometimes Kyle has nightmares about it.</p><p>‘’C’mon Kyle!’’ Butters unhelpfully pipes in. Kyle shoots him a warning glare, one Butters shrugs off as usual.</p><p>‘’You won’t force me to talk to anyone?’’ Kyle clarifies.</p><p>‘’I won’t make you do anything,’’ Kenny promises. ‘’As long as you come.’’</p><p>‘’And you’re not allowed to talk about the past with me anymore?’’</p><p>‘’And I won’t go around giving you notes about the past, yes,’’ Kenny says, rolling his eyes.</p><p>‘’Okay,’’ Kyle narrows his eyes, secretly relieved. If the whole thing is halted with a neat little bow, forever stuffed away, Kyle will put up with one stupid party full of drunk teenagers. ‘’I’ll come.’’</p><p>‘’Oh hooray!’’ Butters cheers. Kenny smiles and ruffles Kyle’s hair, and Kyle swats him off like a rabid dog defending his chew toy.</p><p>‘’Thank you,’’ Kenny kisses Kyle’s hands melodramatically, dropping the darkness in a blink in exchange for an easy going beam. Kyle snorts, a little flattered about how much Kenny wants him to come, despite it sounding completely awful. ‘’You will not regret this.’’</p><p>‘’I’m sure I will,’’ Kyle grins, and gets punched in the shoulder.</p><p>‘’I gotta get back to Queen Eric, I’ll talk to you guys later,’’ Kenny says, standing up and walking backwards, blowing them kisses.</p><p>‘’Oh, is that what he calls himself these days,’’ Kyle laughs. Kenny smirks.</p><p>‘’Dude, you have no idea.’’</p><p>Already that’s too much information, but Kyle doesn’t mind so much, surprisingly. It’s not fucking Cartman he cares about hearing, and Kenny knows that. They wave each other away, and turns back to an openly beaming Butters. His mood has been lifted by the sight of Kenny again, so he barely hates Butters’ joy now and smiles back at the boy.</p><p>‘’I’m real glad you’re coming Kyle. I was worried about going alone. I know Kenny has lots of friends, it would be awful strange to just tag along with him all night,’’ Butters says.</p><p>‘’Yeah, well. I don’t really think I’ll stay for long anyway. I’m just going for Kenny’s sake.’’</p><p>‘’We were both worried you wouldn’t,’’ Butters smiles queasily now. Kyle raises his eyebrows at his apparent concern, but as usual Butters is oblivious to his scrutiny. ‘’Also- I uh, asked him about you two.’’</p><p>‘’Huh?’’</p><p>‘’Um, you know how I asked if you two were- you know,’’ Butters makes a vague hand gesture, and Kyle’s eyes expand like saucers.</p><p>‘’You fucking didn’t-‘’</p><p>‘’It’s okay though!’’ Butters quickly adds. ‘’He uh, laughed at the idea anyway, so.’’</p><p>‘’What’s with you and that idea anyway?’’ Kyle asks, flushing at the embarrassing prospect. ‘’Got a thing against gayness or something?’’</p><p>‘’Ah- well no,’’ Butters stammers, picking at his food more ferociously. ‘’My parents are- but that’s beside the point.’’</p><p>‘’Soo- what? You’re gay or something?’’</p><p>‘’No!’’ Butters turns brilliant red fast, picking at the food even quicker. ‘’It’s nothing, doesn’t matter.’’</p><p>‘’You weirdo,’’ Kyle rolls his eyes. ‘’Kenny isn’t gay you know.’’</p><p>‘’What’s that got to do with anything?’’ Butters says sharply, which pleases Kyle even more. The dude is hopeless at hiding his feelings, and egging him into anger is an excellent distraction to Kyle’s own problems; right now figuring out a battle plan to endure that goddamn party without interacting with two specific assholes.</p><p>‘’Well whatever,’’ Kyle brushes him off, and finally takes a bite out of his meal. ‘’Just promise me you’ll tone it down with the outfit at the party yeah?’’</p><p>‘’What do you mean?’’</p><p>‘’This whole-’’ Kyle gestures to the frilly lemon scarf Butters has curled around his neck, the blue reflective sunglasses perched on his neon blonde hair that might have been cool back in 2010. ‘’Your sense of style, how you say, calls to mind a certainly fraternity that enjoys anal sex.’’</p><p>Butters is adorably confused, and Kyle is nearly cruel enough to torture his naivety.<em> Nearly</em>. ‘’You look gay Butters. Really fucking gay.’’</p><p>Butters is certainly no stranger to Kyle’s foul moods and general shittiness to the world, so Kyle doesn’t sugar-coat his thoughts around him often. In fact, he’s called Butters a gaymo multiple times in the past- usually when the trees did a shitty job at therapy that morning. Butters rarely ever seems affected by it, which is both a relief and incredibly depressing.</p><p>‘’I don’t really mean to look gay,’’ Butters says sincerely, looking down on himself with idle curiosity. ‘’I suppose I just pick what looks nice ya’ know?</p><p>‘’Are you sure you’re not gay?’’ Kyle asks. ‘’You can tell me you know.’’</p><p>Butters’ scowl answers his question, so he supposes he’s not ready to outright say it yet. Kyle is not an asshole, <em>okay</em>.</p><p>***</p><p>Okay, maybe he’s a bit of an asshole. The more he thinks about it, the more he sees how horrible he’s been lately. It seems like something to bring up with Dr Downer, but he hates talking about this stuff with her. It’s his business if he wants to grind his teeth away at the utter stupidity of the human race. They won‘t change, so why should he?</p><p>Kenny texts him that afternoon after school. Kyle is doing homework at his desk, listening to some old band that blares outdated trends into his ears while he solves math equations. It’s probably a clear sign how eager he picks up his phone when the little ding notifies him of a message, that he’s got a problem.</p><p>It’s just the retarded agreement’s fault, making him both separated from reality and co-dependent to what sometimes feels like his only true friend.</p><p>He really hates the agreement. Hates the fucking ‘divorce’ with every black column of fire in his angry little being. But who would he complain to? He doesn’t talk to either of those guys anymore. In fact, after the initial meeting where it was formed, that was one of the last times they talked about it- or were together at all.</p><p>Kenny’s message is simple: <em>hey bro here’s the address of the party. get there at 6 and ill meet u at the frnt. Its this saturday</em></p><p>He adds the address of the senior’s house below it, and Kyle cringes at it being around Token’s neighbourhood, famously the rich side of town. Kyle responds quickly.</p><p>
  <em>Oh hooray, I can hardly wait.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>ill do without the sarcasm miss</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Sorry, I meant: ‘fuck me dead, I’ll totally be there’.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>thas better</em>
</p><p>Kyle snorts and throws his phone down when Kenny offers no secondary comment on his enthusiasm. He’d love to waste his afternoon texting him, but he knows at this precise moment he’s spending time with Cartman- likely over at his house, and he knows better than to encroach on their time. He’s not very nostalgic on the lard, but they all respect each other’s custody time, and haven’t disrupted it in six years, so Kyle won’t be starting now.</p><p>There’s nothing to do after wasting his afternoon getting through extension homework, and his parents will be home late. Ike is having dinner next door at Johnny’s, which Kyle made a point to refuse when Olivia offered him to join them. The very thought of setting foot in that house sends him chills down his spine, so no. No no no, enough of that nonsense.</p><p>The quicker he can purge every stray thought of the motherfucker from his mind, the quicker he can finally get better, boot the stupid therapist, stop the dumb walks through woods, fucking everything making him miserable.</p><p>Kyle putters down to make himself dinner from last night’s leftovers. His mother left a note with instructions to reheat, which Kyle scoffs at, annoyed she doesn’t seem to think he knows how, at sixteen years old. The kitchen is dark and silent, and even remains cold when he turns on the light.</p><p>He can hear Ike and the neighbours chatter and light from the window, which sounds a lot more homely than this house currently feels. It’s the typical scene when his parents work late, and almost happens in a cycle. His parents don’t come home, Ike goes anywhere else, Kyle hates everyone and everything, and the house is lost in a lonely haze of not being a home anymore.</p><p>He takes his plate once it’s hot from the microwave and plants himself on the couch, glaring at the again dusty television.</p><p>It’s died again recently, not even <em>he</em> uses it anymore. He wouldn’t watch anything but the news, and the local news is too depressing and usually the ads contain Tegridy Farms sucking itself off and bragging about their commercial success over the years. He doesn’t want to know how well they’re doing, and he has no desire to accidentally get a peak of Stan in his farming glory. It’s happened before, and is mostly why he doesn’t even bother turning it on anymore.</p><p>The silence of the living room will have to suffice for now.</p><p>Kyle eats and thinks about the party in the back of his mind, the faint laughter of Ivan and Olivia and their lady-lucky son Johnny from next door wafting through the house.</p><p>He has no idea why he accepted this offer to attend the party. No- scratch that, he does. It was most certainly Kenny’s shameless begging, and the bastard knowing very well Kyle is weak to refuse him anything. It was hard enough rejecting his plead to reconcile in that awful confronting note. He still remembers something about what Kenny wrote on it.</p><p>
  <em>The holes making you both bleed.</em>
</p><p>So apparently Stan’s been bleeding. Kyle finds it very hard to believe, and it was definitely wishful thinking on Kenny’s part. Trying to imagine things that weren’t there, for Kyle’s sake or something. Like he’s so pathetic that he needs closure with Stan- as if he can’t function without him.</p><p>HA-HA-HA. Fucking hilarious. Kyle is functioning perfectly fine, and it’s very obvious.</p><p>With the lack of trees in the area, The neighbours' distant chuckles seem to fill their place: <em>haha are you serious you fool? Will you ever stop lying?</em></p><p>‘’Never,’’ Kyle grins to himself, though it’s not funny in the slightest. He keeps chewing and glares at the dust on the television.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
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